Love lust // Thomas Shelby

2 ~ Lipstick and tea

Small heath, Birmingham - December 1924

The sound of rumbling thunder wasn't what kept the residents of small heath in their homes...

No... no....

It was the sound of a certain woman's heels that clicked furiously, and with passion against the dirty, grime covered cobblestone streets of small heath, particularly watery lane....

She was a huntress, ready to strike her prey, eyes dull, any sign of happiness or love dissipated, leaving the glean on emerald and brown hues, that told a story that no one could read.
Her face set in a neutral tone, completely opposite to that of the way she carried herself down watery lane, her expensive ebony leather trench coat tied around her waist, her mysteriously deep, forest green dress fell just shy of the middle of her calves, the colour of her dress revealed her as secretive and untrustworthy, most likely intentional.

The wind wasn't very forgiving that day however she looked as if she trusted the it, she carried herself as one and the same with the elements, her hair whipped as the cool air rushed through her raven locks making her seem otherworldly, this didn't bother her like it bothered other women, she reviled in it, as though she enjoyed the way it made her seem unapproachable however what struck most as they watched her glide past their houses, was that of her lack of fear, a stranger, unknown to these parts of Birmingham, and a woman as well. She completely lacked any emotions, not a single expression, or mannerism showed that she feared what roamed the streets, oh no, she had none, why would she? Little did the peeping toms knew was that she grew up on these very streets, along side the very people the residents feared....

The shelbys...

She knew the looks she received from many manners of people, she wasn't naïve she knew she looked different so to speak from other women in small heath, hell probably the whole of England. Not necessarily different in looks but more so, composure, the way her eyes stalked people like a big cat stalks it's prey, she was calculated, her past made sure of that...
Her worth was more than any other in small heath, Cunningly she knew to use this to her ability, she could make any man fall to her feet, and any woman wish they were her...
Fear installs obedience, she felt that to create loyal followers, some sort of fear must be implemented, she needed them to never cross her, nor betray her.
Her enterprise is the one of the largest in Britain, her plans to expand to the United States will fall into place, so long as she eliminated her opposition....
Boy was she looking forward to that.

The sound of her patent leather heels didn't fall upon death ears, she knew she had been seen, it's what she expected, what she had planned for.... She could imagine the whispers between the residents of small heath as they gossiped about the, new mystery that had befallen upon them.

a smirk played on her lips as she reached her destination, outwards appearances didn't impress her one bit as she stopped for a moment and analysed the building infront of her, double glass wooden doors, burgundy bricks cracking with the weight of the secrets the building held, a large rather obnoxious sign that sat above the entrance as she took a few steps towards  the very place she would rather forget but no matter very few things scared her and this was not one of those things.
As she pushed the wooden doors, the intoxicating smell of cheap cologne, whisky, mild beer, and tobacco filled her nostrils, the sounds of men slapping each other on the backs, laughing as they recalled memories of their youths. Some sat alone scattered around, as they stared into their glasses, either wishing they were dead, or too drunk to wish for such things.
Laughter died down as she stood exuding poise and confidence, taking a cigarette out of her golden engraved tin, she placed it between her blood red stained lips as she raised her lighter as the red and orange embers ignited her cigarette, she could feel the eyes of the men around her watching her every move, while she took a drag and her head fell back in pleasure, relenting in the intoxicating feeling of the smoke filling her lungs. The men were in awe as they saw her perfectly proportioned figure underneath the ebony long coat she wore, her height was slightly taller than the average woman around small heath but that didn't take away from her beauty. Standing there, she relished in the silence, however her mind was busy as always, her cognitive skills meant she was always aware, something she had perfected over the years away.

After silence fell within the building for a few moments she raised her head slowly, as she was not alarmed, looked towards the private room doors, the tall, skinny yet muscular figure emerged, hand running through hi mousy brown hair as he placed an unmistakable peaky cap upon his head, the man had not caught onto why the pub was so quiet until he raised his eyes, wishing he had just stayed in the comfort of the private room.... a thick nervous lump was stuck in his throat as he shifted on his feet, suddenly and assertively the figure that continued to haunt him each day spoke, a smooth yet evil voice filled the room...

"Arthur.... Miss me?" 

An unmistakable cocky smirk played on her lips as she had Arthur Shelby right where she wanted him, like an ant under her heel. His silence was all the conformation she needed to know her presence alone was doing it's wonders.

"Be a doll and get me your brother... you know which one don't you sweetheart?" Though her words on paper sounded comforting, as she spoke them the bitterness could be heard as the words dripped from her lips....
"Today would be nice Arthur" her voice not raising a single sellable higher than when she had previously spoke just moments ago however her tone malicious and assertive as Arthur coughed, snapped out of his trance and ran to the phone, if anyone else had spoken to him that way a bullet would've met them between their eyes or they eyes gone. Dialling the number to arrow house, he prayed that his brother would pick up the phone, it dialled and dialled but eventually went dead, running a hand down his face with a groan, he called the next person he could think of......

The phone beeped as the call was picked up on the other line, he didn't even give the recipient time to greet him, before he spoke...

"Pol?...."  His gruff voice, rattled down the telephone "she's back.."

An exasperated sigh left his aunts lips "Arthur are you on snow? Who's back?"

"....Emlyn pol.... Emlyns back" That name caused a shiver to run down pollys back remembering the girl they all thought had long gone

"Shit"